


Riptide

by natashawrites



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Basically all Klance, Basically everyone is in Cuba for various reasons, Bi Shiro, Gay Keith, Getting Together, Keith and Lance POV, Lance saves Keith's reckless ass way too many times, M/M, Mutual Pining, Strangers to Lovers, Surfer AU, Surfer and Lifeguard Lance, Surfing Competitions, They might be roommates at some point idk, This AU has probably been done before but I love it lol, ace pidge, adopted keith, also I know nothing about surfing so don't @ me, background shallura - Freeform, bi lance, broganes, fluff with a side of light angst, mostly fluff tho, surfer keith, this is set a little bit in the future where Cuba and the US are on better terms
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-13
Updated: 2018-08-13
Packaged: 2019-06-27 01:31:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15675315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/natashawrites/pseuds/natashawrites
Summary: The surfing AU you didn't ask for and probably don't want, featuring: near-death experiences, first kisses, and idiotic boys who just so happen to be professional competitors.A fic in which Lance and Keith are pining, oblivious, and have way too much time on their hands. I'm sure you can imagine the rest.





	1. Come Unstuck

**Author's Note:**

> A new fic!! I'm so excited tbh I don't even care that this AU has probably been done a great deal before. This will be updating regularly as I write it, so make sure to stay tuned for the next chapter every few days or so. Thanks for reading!

When Keith had woken up that day, he had not planned to end it by drowning.

Yet here he was, tumbling through the waves, his vision full of  _ blue, so blue,  _ and froth was in his ears and there was nothing but roaring in his head as he was slammed again and again. It was impossible to tell which way was up, which way was down or to the shore - there was only the never-ending roil of the punishing waves and the occasional desperate gasp of salt-soaked air that he managed along with simultaneously inhaling the warm ocean.  _ Too far. He had gone too far out. _

And Keith couldn’t help feeling a little bit of acceptance as the edges of his vision turned black, and he could feel his weak grasp on consciousness slipping - could not help thinking that really, it was nobody’s fault but his own, and at least if he was drowning, it had started on his own terms. 

His vision filled with bright spots as his lungs filled with water, and Keith could feel that he was sinking, could feel his lungs slowly expanding with the volume of seawater within them, could feel his body dropping like a lost stone beneath the tumultuous surf above him, could feel where the water changed to something cooler as he sank.

But then he was moving, rocketing through the water, and he could barely feel the hands gripping his arms over the numbness of unconsciousness.

 

....

 

Lance heaved the young man onto the beach behind him, collapsing into the wet sand as he rolled him on his back. 

He wasn’t breathing.

Frantic, cursing the stupidity of someone who went that far out without anyone present on the early morning beach, Lance pressed his hands to the boy’s chest and pumped, hard. Once. Twice. Three times. And then, with hardly any thought, lowering his mouth to those cold, pale lips and exhaling hard into his mouth, pinching his nose. 

Over and over and over again, alternating with the pumping of his hands, trying against all odds to get his heart beating again.

Hoping it would be enough. Hoping it would be enough to save this stranger, this stupid, reckless surfer who had overestimated his own abilities and underestimated the swells brought in by winter storms in the Gulf. 

“Come on,” Lance said, gritting his teeth as he pumped his hands against the dark wetsuit again. 

And then, just as he was about to put their mouths together again and breathe oxygen into the boy’s lungs, his eyes shot open. They were a shocking violet, bloodshot from the salt water, and they were wide open and scanning Lance’s face as he hovered above him. The boy shoved weakly at Lance from beneath, and still startled by the suddenness of his return to the living, Lance let the boy push him to the side. 

And then he was turning over and vomiting sea water into the sand. Lance slapped his back as he coughed it all out, eventually dying down to weak splutters. “How-” the boy started, but his throat was so ravaged that it hardly came out as more than a rasp. 

“How did I save you? Spot you? I’m a lifeguard,” Lance responded, crossing his arms where he sat in the sand, seeing something flicker in the other boy’s eyes. “What’s your name, anyway?”

The boy pushed himself into a sitting position. The wetsuit clung to his body and his long dark hair (a mullet? What the fuck?) streamed steady rivulets down the hollows of his back, clearly highlighted by the tightness of his suit. Swallowing hard, Lance returned his attention to the boy’s face. Despite nearly dying, he seemed annoyed - angry, even. “Keith,” was his only muttered response. 

“Well, Keith,” Lance said, feeling a slightly misdirected anger rising in his chest, “speaking as a certified lifeguard, that was idiotic. If I wasn’t here, you would have died.”

Keith rose from his sitting position on shaky legs, bracing a hand against the sand to steady himself as he stood. He looked down at himself, brows furrowed. “I don’t suppose you bothered to save my board, too?”

Lance squinted at him, affronted. “Hey, I think your life was more important. You’re welcome for that, by the way.”

“Yeah. Well. Thanks, I guess.” Somehow, the way he said it, Keith made the gratitude sound insincere. He scowled at himself, and then out toward the waves, where his board was surely sinking below the waves. “Varadero Beach was supposed to be an easier spot. I haven’t been out for...well, a long time.”

“Clearly,” Lance bit back, Keith’s lackluster thanks still smarting. “And it’s only easy when there’s not a huge tropical storm brewing in the Gulf of Mexico, idiot.”

“Oh yeah? And what do you know about it?” Keith shot, his eyes narrowing. 

Lance leveled a flat stare at him. “I live here.”

Keith flushed, an angry red rising up his cheeks and into his hairline behind his ears. “Oh.”

“Yeah. Oh. Maybe next time you should do some research if you’re unfamiliar with an area. Get some advice from the real pros out here.”

Keith took a staggering step away from Lance, and then another, as if to walk away. The longer he stood, the more his strength seemed to slowly trickle back into him. “I’ll be sure to do that next time.” The tone was sarcastic, grating. Lance immediately scowled. 

“You can’t just walk off. You’re going to the hospital.”

“Um, no, I’m not,” Keith retorted. “You may be a lifeguard, but I’m an adult. I have to go get a new board now.”

“I’m an adult?” Lance repeated, incredulous. “That’s exactly why you should be going to the hospital. You almost  _ died _ .”

“As you keep reminding me,” Keith said, his eyes angry now. “I don’t need to be babysat. I’ll take care of myself.”

“No,” Lance said, and even he was surprised by how firm the word came out. Keith was staring at him warily and had stopped walking away. “Come on, I’ll drive you. And if you don’t come,” Lance narrowed his eyes at Keith, threatening, “I’ll report you to the powers-that-be and have you declared unfit to enter any competitions. Which I have the authority to do, as a lifeguard.”

It was just a guess, that Keith was training to surf competitively. What the fuck was he even saying? It was all just blabber spilling out of his mouth in a desperate attempt to get Keith to go to the hospital because the guy really didn’t look great. But authority? As a lifeguard? It was nearly laughable. Would Keith buy it?

“You’re bluffing,” Keith said, narrowing his eyes again as he studied Lance’s carefully neutral face. And although he most certainly was bluffing, he wasn’t about to let Keith know that. 

“Am I? Do you really want to find out?” Lance waited with bated breath to see what Keith’s response would be. He still looked shaky on his legs, and Lance had to resist the urge to hold out his arms to catch him in case he fell over. 

And then Keith heaved a sigh, pushing his damp hair back to expose his forehead. Lance’s stomach flipped. “Fine. Take me to the hospital, I guess.” He didn’t sound happy about it, but Lance felt a smile spread over his own face all the same. 

“Good. Wise.” And then Lance was tugging on Keith’s cold wrist, pulling him in the opposite direction he had been headed. “My car’s this way, let’s go.”

He realized he was still holding Keith’s wrist as they started walking, and quickly let go. 

It was still early, not even six a.m., and Varadero was quiet, not quite awake yet, despite October being the beginning of peak tourist season. Lance liked these early mornings, where the sky was a fragile blue and the day’s humidity held its breath over the water and the ocean breeze stirred a call in his blood. A call to the water, to go taste the salt and glide through the sea like he had been born to do it. Sometimes, he thought maybe he had been. But Veronica always said that made him sound like Moana, so really, what was the truth?

Keith was quiet at his side as they trekked up to the near-empty parking lot. He was doing a good job at putting on the air of someone too sullen to be bothered, but the more Lance studied him, the more he thought he just looked sad. Drained. 

“What are you staring at?” Keith snapped, and Lance blinked away imprints of violet before looking away. 

“Just looking at the face of someone I heroically saved today,” Lance said loftily, knowing it would get a rise out of Keith. “Not even six a.m. and I’m performing services for the world, look at me.”

Keith huffed. “What were you even doing here this early? I know you weren’t lifeguarding because Varadero doesn’t have lifeguards on duty at this time of day.”

“Nah, I don’t lifeguard here. Too touristy. I work at Sun Beach. You’re lucky that I decided to take a stop down here before going to see my parents for the day.”

Keith just nodded. They finally reached Lance’s rickety rental car. “You really don’t have to come with me. If you’re seeing your family.” He sounded pained when he said it. 

Lance just shoved him before opening the car door. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily.” 

Keith just shook his head. 

“No, I’m serious! I’m like a barnacle. You can’t get me off once I latch on. Besides, I don’t trust you to go to the hospital if I leave you, and that would be very irresponsible of me.”

“You might be a lifeguard, but somehow you don’t strike me as the most responsible person,” Keith sniped as they both got into the car. 

Lance gasped, placing a hand over his heart. “I’m offended. I’ll have you know that I am a very responsible person. Exhibit A: Saving your life today.” Keith rolled his eyes. “Exhibit B: They let me get this rent this car, didn’t they? So I can’t seem _that_ unreliable. Exhibit C: Uh. I guess I can’t think of an Exhibit C right now.”  


Lance saw Keith frown as they started backing out of the parking lot. “If you live here, why do you have a rental car?”

“I’m just here for this year,” Lance said. He was always forthcoming with his personal life; he liked talking to people, but usually, he didn’t delve this deep into his story so soon within meeting a person. Something about Keith just made him want to connect, made him want to talk and find out more about the other boy, too. “I’m transferring to the Galaxy Garrison for school in the fall, but I wanted to spend my gap year down here, working and spending time with my family. I don’t get to do that very often.”

The road whizzed past beneath the car, palm trees and snatches of ocean racing by the windows like a half-animated film. With the windows open, Keith’s hair was starting to dry, and it flipped around his face in a way that was mesmerizing enough Lance had to remind himself to keep his eyes on the road. Lance’s own clothes were now drying, too, and he shifted as he tried to get comfortable in their lingering dampness.

After a long silence, Keith spoke up. “It must be nice to be able to connect with your heritage like that.”

Lance studied him out of the corner of his eye, a little surprised. The guy had seemed so standoffish even just a few minutes ago, but now he seemed inclined to be more forthcoming. “Yeah. It is.” He paused, wondering if he should push his luck and see how much Keith’s mood really had changed. “Are you down here for surfing season, or what?”

For a minute he thought Keith wouldn’t answer as the guy stared out the window, his chin propped in his hand. But then he spoke. “Yeah. I’m trying to train again, get back on my feet. I thought I was gonna go pro a couple years ago, but...things have changed.” 

His tone was heavier at that, and Lance didn’t push it. To his surprise, Keith continued. “I ran into some family issues. And now that everything is different, I might go back to school. Haven’t decided yet. I know they’re holding a spot for me, but I don’t how long that will last for. I just thought that coming down here, training...I could figure myself out. I don't know. After today, that seems kind of stupid.”

Lance could feel a frown tugging at his lips, but he rearranged them into what he hoped was a reassuring smile. “Hey. One incident doesn’t mean you’re the worst. Hell, I’ve had some near misses surfing, too.” Keith’s head snapped up, but Lance continued. “And this is a good place to figure yourself out. Cuba is...well, it’s a lot more relaxed than the States. Which is where I’m assuming you’re from, based on the accent. And even if you don’t decide to compete again, surfing is a sport that sort of just...swallows you whole. It never really leaves you, no matter how involved you were in it.”

“You surf?” Keith asked, as if that was the only thing he had heard out of what Lance said. 

“Yeah, ever since I was little and started visiting down here. Got that dual citizenship, you know, now that the US and Cuba are on more even footing. So surfing has always sorta been in my blood. Ever since that first time out, I’ve been hooked.”

Keith just nodded again, and they fell silent for the rest of the ride to the hospital. They had to wait in the emergency room for over an hour, and Lance noticed Keith was shivering in the air conditioning, his wetsuit still damp and clinging to his skin. 

“Here,” he said, offering a soft smile and his jacket to the other boy, who seemed to accept both after a moment of thought. Lance wanted to laugh a little at the sight of Keith, in a wetsuit, mullet and all, with Lance’s jacket around his shoulders. But he had stopped shivering, so there was that, at least. 

And when Keith was called in to see a doctor and explain the situation, Lance had time to think. Time to think that he hadn’t given Keith the whole truth when he had asked how Lance had been on the beach to save him. Time to think about the way he had been driving to his parents’ house when he had seen a distant figure riding the waves in Lance’s own personal favorite spot. 

Keith had moved like flame given flesh. He had cut through the water on his board like he was born to part it, like he was born to master himself and his environment. Lance didn’t need to be able to see his face to know that there would be an intense look of exhilaration there, of focus and determination. Lance had been captivated. Rooted to the spot, his feet sinking into the sand, watching this stranger surf. And when he had recognized the figure going out too far into the storm-sent waves, had recognized the flow of the current, he hardly hesitated before he was running down the beach for a closer look. And then a swell had vanished the figure from his view, and when it didn’t re-appear, that was when Lance jumped into the water. 

It was just luck. Pure luck, and Lance’s own inability to stop looking at something so mesmerizing, that had kept Keith from dying today. And as Lance sat in the waiting room, staring at his hands in the fluorescent light, he wanted to laugh at the sheer coincidence of it. At the sort of situation that would only happen to him. And wondered just what would happen when Keith emerged from the interior hospital and they had to part ways. 

Because, and it was stupid but true, Lance found himself not wanting to part ways with this Keith. Wanting more time with this mysterious stranger who was so intent on continuing a career that he had nearly drowned in the process. And that’s when Lance began plotting excuses to stay with him, at least for the time being. And if that made him a barnacle, well. That just proved he was on the right track of mind.

Lance’s head snapped up as the door to the waiting room swung open, and Keith emerged. He looked considerably more relaxed, and Lance’s lips curled up as he realized the boy was still wearing his jacket. The waiting room just made his wetsuit look even more ridiculous and out of place. 

“Hey,” Lance said, getting up to greet him. “What did they say? Do you have pneumonia? Brain damage? Gonna be in a permanent vegetative state starting sometime in the next 24 hours?”

“No,” Keith said flatly, but Lance thought he looked like he might be trying not to smile. “I’m all good. They just told me to drink a lot of fluids. But no more salt water.”

Lance clicked his tongue. “Yeah, I think you already drank enough of that for an entire lifetime.”

Keith seemed almost rueful when he shook his head. “I thought I was gonna have to pay for hospital bills here. That’s…” he paused, looking at Lance through absurdly long lashes as if considering his next words. “That’s why I didn’t want to come to the hospital. Partly, at least.”

Lance’s mouth fell open in an ‘o’. It explained his reluctance. “Nope, we take care of our own here when it comes to healthcare. Welcome to communism, buddy.” 

Keith cracked a genuine smile at that, and it made Lance’s chest feel a little fuzzy with warmth. 

“So,” Lance continued as they left the waiting room, walking out to his car, “Are you staying in the Varadero area?”

Keith nodded. “I’m renting a house. Well, if you can call it that. But it works for me.” He frowned. “I have to go find a new board now.”

And that’s when one of Lance’s plotted excuses came to mind. “Lucky for you, I know just the place.”


	2. Starting Conversations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith meets new people in unexpected places.

Keith looked around the shop curiously as Lance bounced in ahead of him, the little bell of the door ringing merrily. He had finally been able to get into dry clothes, forcing Lance to stop by his rented shack (because it wasn’t really a house, it had very possibly been a gardening shed at one point) so he could change. (“You live like this?” Lance had asked, giving him a bemused smile.) Now he was in comfortable pants and a red t-shirt, which was almost the whole extent of the wardrobe he’d brought with him. 

The shop was small but comfortable, with wide windows and that smell that seems to permeate all stores selling outdoor gear of any kind, the smell of polish and wood and metal.  The walls were lined with all sorts of different surfboards, and there were posters everywhere for different water sports companies, showcasing events. One caught his eye - an advertisement for the Vans Triple Crown of Surfing in November. His heart sank at the sight of it, remembering how just last year he had planned on going. Had qualified. Might have placed. But then everything had happened, and he missed his chance. And now, a year out of practice, he wouldn’t be able to do anything besides watch the event from afar. 

Turning away from the poster, Keith made to walk over to the boards when he nearly ran into Lance and a man just behind him. He was dark-skinned and nearly dwarfed Lance in height and breadth, but the orange headband and wide smile on his face offset any intimidating aspects of his appearance. Immediately, Keith felt at ease around him. 

“Hi!” The man said enthusiastically, sticking out his hand for Keith to shake. Keith took it and wasn’t surprised by the guy’s firm but gentle grip. “My name’s Hunk, I work here and am one of this guy’s -” he gestured to Lance affectionately, “good friends. Can I help you with anything?”

Keith cocked his head at Lance. “You have friends?” He was pleased to see Lance splutter at that, and Hunk gave a hearty chuckle. Then Lance just raised an eyebrow at Keith. So he hadn’t told Hunk how they met, then. “Um, yeah. I need a new board. I sort of...um, lost mine.”

“Okay! I can definitely help with that, we’ve got a ton of options. And…” Hunk paused as if he was finally getting a clear look at Keith. His brow furrowed. “You said your name was Keith?”

“Um, no, I didn’t actually,” Keith said self-consciously. “But I’m guessing Lance did?”

Hunk shook his head like he was trying to clear water from his ears. “You’re Keith Kogane.”

Keith just looked at him, a little taken aback. “Um. Yeah, I am. Did Lance tell you my last name too?” But Lance looked as confused as he was. 

“No, dude,” Hunk continued. “You’re  _ Keith Kogane _ . As in the qualifier for the Vans Triple Crown? As in one of the most talented young surfers in the world, who, just before the biggest competition of the year, mysteriously dropped off the face of the planet and out of the surfing scene?”

“Um…” Keith rubbed the back of his neck, feeling where it had heated. “Yeah. I didn’t think...I didn’t think people, like, knew who I was.”

Lance was gaping at him, wide-mouthed and wide-eyed. “Dude, I didn’t know you were actually, like, pro competing. Why didn’t you say anything?”

“You didn’t ask,” Keith said awkwardly. He was sure he was blushing now. 

“This is so cool!” Hunk exclaimed. “I’m a pretty big fan of surfing, so I follow all the big competitions. That’s also why I work here in my spare time,” he laughed. 

“Hunk is doing an internship with Balmera Tech,” Lance said as if he was proud to boast of his friend. He seemed to have gotten over his surprise at Keith’s past, which Keith was glad to stop talking about.

“Balmera Tech?” Keith echoed, a little puzzled. 

“Yeah,” Hunk said sheepishly, rubbing his neck. “We’re basically facilitating the exchange of aerospace technology between Cuba and America, partly as a diplomacy thing. We work a lot with the Galaxy Garrison.”   


Lance seemed to puff up a little at the mention of the school he was planning on attending being involved in this diplomacy. Keith idly wondered if Shiro was involved in it, too. “That sounds...really cool, actually,” Keith found himself saying. 

Hunk gave another genuine smile. “Yeah. I think so, too. Anyway, you said you needed a new board, right?”

Hunk led him over to the selection of higher-end boards. Keith’s heart sank at the prices. “I might need to just rent one,” he mumbled, half-hoping Hunk wouldn’t hear him. “I don’t have a whole lot of funds right now.”

“Okay,” Hunk said brightly. “I do think you qualify for the Friends and Family discount though, seeing as how Lance brought you in here.”

Lance looked at Keith a little smugly. “See? Told you I knew just the place.”

Keith spent a while looking at the boards, comparing prices, running his fingers over the wax finishes. It had been so long since he’d bought a new surfboard. And now that even renting one seemed like it might break his budget, maybe it wasn’t worth it. 

“Hey,” Lance said, popping up by his side. “Can’t find one you like?”

Keith made a noncommittal noise at the back of his throat. How did he explain the mountain of medical bills still at home? The student loan debts? How did he explain that even though surfing was his only escape, he wasn’t sure he could even afford it anymore? 

“If you’re worried about price,” Lance said casually, and Keith’s eyes snapped to his, “there are a few local competitions happening soon. You could get some decent prize money, keep you afloat until you come up with a semi-permanent solution.”

Keith’s heart sank a little at the suggestion, but he wasn’t quite sure why. Maybe it was the idea that now he couldn’t compete just for the love of it - he needed to, now. Maybe it was the idea that a year ago he had been qualified for the biggest competition in the world and now he barely qualified for some local expos. Or maybe, he thought with trepidation, it was just that after his incident that morning, he was afraid of the water. He shook the last one off, though. No matter what happened to him, no matter how many incidents he had, he would never be afraid of the water. He couldn’t lose that. 

“I’ll think about it,” he told Lance, but it felt a little false on his tongue. 

Eventually, by renting a cheaper board with the discount Hunk offered, Keith was able to get a new board for a price that didn’t completely put him out of rent for the rest of his time in Cuba. 

“So,” Keith said awkwardly as he shifted the board on his shoulders. They were standing in the parking lot, which was starting to heat uncomfortably with the midday sun. 

“So,” Lance echoed. They just stared at each other for a moment, and Keith told himself the heat spreading across his cheeks was from the Cuban heat. “Do you want me to take you home, or…?”

“Yeah,” Keith said, clearing his throat. “That would probably be best.”

They just stayed silent for another moment, and Keith wasn’t sure why it suddenly felt so awkward. It was like it felt wrong, after what had happened that morning, to just say goodbye. 

“Um.” Lance broke the silence. “I probably should be getting to my parents’ house soon. So we should go.”  
Keith felt movement seep back into his muscles. “Oh. Right! Yeah. Parents. Right. We should get going.” And he speed-walked to the car, opening the trunk and thrusting the board into the back. It nearly stuck into the front seat, but it fit.

They were both quiet on the ride back to Keith’s shack, letting the wind and the sound of the crashing ocean fill the silence between them. Everything Keith wanted to say felt inadequate.  _ Hey Lance, thanks for saving my life. Hey Lance, I have a spot at the Galaxy Garrison, too. Maybe I’ll see you there? Hey Lance, why don’t I want to say goodbye to you? _

So he didn’t say anything. Cuba was beautiful, all long beaches and giving people and wide open skies, so different and yet so similar to the deserts where Keith had spent his childhood. And Lance, next to him in this rental car, his ocean-colored eyes fixed on the road ahead of them, fit right in here. 

Finally, they pulled up to his shack, and Keith got out of the car, pulling his board out from the trunk. He hesitated for a moment, wondering what to say to Lance, when the other boy suddenly got out of the car and bounded up to him. 

“Hey,” he said, as if they hadn’t just spent an entire car ride together. 

“Hey,” Lance said, and he seemed excited about something, if not a little hesitant. “I was just thinking, you know, since you’re a reckless little shit and this isn’t a very big island, you should have someone in your corner. Especially a lifeguard.” At that, he flashed a dimpled smile that made Keith’s heart stutter a beat. “So here’s my number.” 

He thrust out a torn scrap of paper, and Keith mutely took it. Lance’s phone number was scribbled across it, with a little L at the bottom. Keith couldn’t help but smile at that. “I’ll make sure to call in times of crisis,” he said drily but pocketed the slip of paper all the same. 

“Make sure you do,” Lance said with a mock-serious frown. Then he gave a little salute. “Until next time, Mullet.”

Keith had to laugh a little as Lance sauntered back to the car with the look of someone slightly pleased with himself.  _ Until next time _ . The thought warmed him for some reason as he watched the car take off down the road, and he told himself it was because he was glad he’d made a friend. 

Keith deposited the surfboard inside and then, still feeling restless with leftover energy, decided to go for a walk down the beach. The sands were full of tourists now where they had been empty this morning, especially crowded around the big resorts. Keith stuck to the surf, enjoying the way the water lapped around his feet and the pleasant burn in his calves as he pressed stride after stride into the shifting sand. He lost himself in the view of the ocean, the clear horizon, the call of the waves. He could never be scared of the water, he thought. 

And then his thoughts turned to Lance, and for once, he let them wander as they pleased. The piece of paper in his pocket felt like a constant presence against his leg, the numbers scrawled on them already imprinted in Keith’s brain. Even after saving Keith from a life-threatening situation, he had been so quick to banter, so quick to verbally spar with him. Yet he was still so good-natured, so bubbly. He exuded sunshine and wit. 

Keith was lost in puzzling out his feelings when a heavy weight knocked into his back, causing him to stagger forward. 

Someone was clinging to his shoulders and covering his eyes with their hands, and he spun around wildly, trying to shake them off and see who was attacking him, when - “Guess who?” A voice trilled in his ear. 

Keith paused his wild spinning just long enough for the voice to register. A disbelieving smile stole over his face. “I can’t believe it. It’s either Pidge Holt or the cold, clammy hands of death coming for me at last.”

The body on his back shook with laughter as they got off, removing their hands from his eyes. And then Pidge Holt was standing in front of him, her hair a wild tuft, round glasses askew, and arms folded across her tiny stature. “That’s such a stale meme.”

“You’re a stale meme,” Keith retorted, falling back on the automatic insult-generator format that so greatly annoyed Pidge. 

Pidge gasped. “I’m offended!” And the way she pressed her hand to her heart reminded Keith so forcefully of Lance that it took him aback for a moment. 

The sight of Pidge standing in front of him, in Cuba, quickly pulled him back to reality. “What are you even doing here?” he asked, a little incredulously. 

“Well, with my enormous talent for being places I shouldn’t and my profound ability to get my dad to say yes to things, we’re staying right over there.” She pointed a hand up the beach to a nice rental house that probably had multiple condos for rent inside. “I wasn’t expecting to see you on the beach, but that was a lot more fun than trying to track you down.” She gave him an impish smile that he couldn’t help but echo.

Truth be told, he’d missed Pidge. His best friend of years, aside from Shiro. She was almost like a second sibling to him. 

“So your dad’s here too?”

“Yeah,” she said. “Basically there’s this tech ambassador thing happening between the Garrison and Balmera Tech and the Cuban government, which I got an internship for.” She adjusted her glasses proudly. “But Dad wouldn’t let me come down alone, and he’s working on the project too anyway, and he said he could maybe do some coaching down here while he’s at it.”

Sam Holt, the coach for both Pidge and Keith when they had both just been learning to surf, was multi-talented. Pidge took after him so strongly there was no mistaking that they were family when they were together. 

“So,” Keith said slowly, because it was so Pidge, “you’re juggling a super impressive internship, your budding surfing career, and homeschooling all at the same time?”

“Yup,” Pidge said. “It’s so much fun, though. The internship is super cool. I’ve already met some people down here through it, like these guys Hunk and Lance. They’re pretty cool, even though Lance is a dork. And they surf, too!” 

Keith just squinted at her. Because it wasn’t possible. The world wasn’t  _ that _ small of a place. “You’re not fucking with me right now, are you?”

Pidge paused in their enthusiastic explanation. “Why would I be fucking with you?”

“You know a Hunk  _ and _ a Lance? And they’re friends? And they’re staying down here? And they surf?”

“Uh...yeah,” Pidge said, staring at him in a way that demanded an explanation. 

Keith just rubbed his face. “If we’re talking about the same people, I’ve met them too.”

“Really?” Pidge’s face lit up. “This is so cool! Barely a few weeks in and the world is already pushing us into a squad. It’s like it was meant to be.”

“No,” Keith insisted. “No squad. I only met Lance today, it’s not like we’re going to run into each other again. It was just chance.”

“But Keith,” Pidge whined, dragging out the syllables. “Are you really gonna keep me from forming healthy bonds on my educational trip to Cuba? I’m a growing teenager. You wouldn’t want to stunt my social skills, would you?”

Keith leveled a flat stare at her. “You can be friends with them all you want. I’m here to focus on surfing.”

Pidge’s eyes turned suddenly shrewd. “You’re acting weird. How  _ did _ you meet Lance and Hunk?”

“I met Lance...on the beach,” Keith said nervously. It wasn’t technically lying. But he knew Pidge would kick his ass for nearly dying. 

Pidge’s eyes narrowed to slits. “Uh huh. Kogane, I’ve known you for ten years. I can tell when you’re lying through your teeth.”

Keith heaved a sigh. “Lancesavedmefromdrowningandtookmetothehospitalandhelpedmegetanewboard.” 

Pidge just cocked an eyebrow. “I’m gonna ask you to repeat that. And slower.”   


Keith frowned at her, but after a brief staring match, caved. “Lance saved me from drowning. And took me to the hospital. And helped me get a new board.”  _ And I’m definitely not still thinking about him hours later. _

Pidge just stared at him for a moment in disbelief, and then she swatted him in the arm.

“Ow!” 

“Well, you deserve it. You reckless...you know what? I bet Lance already chewed you out. That seems like something he could do, he’s a closet mother hen. And I bet Hunk sold you your board, right?”

Keith just nodded. 

“Well. I guess I’m glad you’re alive,” she said, eyes glinting mischievously. 

Keith laughed. “Me too.”

“But,” Pidge continued, in a tone Keith knew all too well and was afraid of, “you know what this means.”

“Not sure I do,” he said with trepidation. 

“It means we  _ have _ to hang out with Lance and Hunk! It’s like the universe wants us to. No excuses.”

“But Pidge,” Keith started, half-hating the whine in his voice. He wasn’t sure he would ever be able to stop thinking about Lance if he saw him again. Those blue eyes already felt like they were tattooed on the backs of his retinas, and he did _not_ want to catch any kinds of feelings. Not that he was going to, he was just taking preemptive measures. Noooo chance of catching feelings for Lance. None at all, because Keith wasn’t going to see him again. 

And then Pidge turned on the puppy-eyes, a pleading look that was more dangerous than her most evil grin. “Please, Keith? It would mean a lot to me to have friends on this extended trip.”   


Keith could feel his walls caving, and he knew he was already lost. “Fine,” he found himself half-sighing, half-groaning as he dragged a hand down his face. “I feel like I’m going to regret this.”

But as Pidge grinned triumphantly and Keith surveyed the glittering blue waves for an answer, he couldn’t be sure that he would. The sun, high above, looked like a watchful eye, seeming to say,  _ We’ll just have to wait and see _ . 


	3. Down to the Riptide

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some experiences aren't meant to be repeated, yet still are.

Lance savored the early morning air, enjoying the weight of his board against his shoulder and the kiss of the wind against his cheeks. His wetsuit clung to his body, not wet yet, and he stood for a moment in the parking lot, just gazing at the ocean. 

He finally had a free morning to surf, and he hadn’t been to Calle 70 in forever. He rarely went into Havana at all, actually. What with working in Sun Beach and spending time with his family in Varadero, he just didn’t have time. But the rocky shore here, the crashing waves and foaming mouth of the sea...it was perfect for surfing. 

All week, he had been looking forward to surfing here. His shift didn’t start until noon, so he had time. And during that week, his thoughts had been occupied by one surfer in particular. A surfer more reckless than he had a right to be, a surfer with mysterious eyes and a concealed smile and a snarky mouth. The first surfer in a while who had captured Lance’s attention so thoroughly. Keith. 

And it wasn’t like he even knew the guy that well. Beyond spending half a day together, he didn’t know him. Yet he couldn’t keep his mind off him. 

So when Lance’s vision tunneled to a dark head bobbing in the waves, he thought it was just his imagination playing tricks on him. Just his brain fulfilling some hidden wish lurking in the dark recesses of his mind. But no, there was definitely another surfer already riding the waves, ripping across them like flames coming to life along a forest. 

Lance blinked. Once. Twice. Because it seemed like too much of a coincidence, even for him. Was he dreaming?

As he drew closer, feet carrying him faster now, the weight of his board all but forgotten against his shoulder, his brain could only confirm what his eyes were relaying. That was Keith. At Calle 70, on the exact same day and time as Lance. 

He couldn’t help the smile stealing across his face, and then he was bounding across the rocky shore, sticking to the flatter rocks so as not to lose his foothold. “Keith!” He called, letting his voice carry over the crashing of waves. 

The surfer’s head snapped up, and he seemed to lose his grip for a moment as he stared at Lance’s face before quickly recovering. He pulled out of the crest he was on and let the tide carry him toward the shore. Toward Lance. 

When Keith finally drew close enough to speak, Lance could see the little crinkle between his brows, the confused half-smile playing on his lips. “Hey,” he said, his voice breathless in a way that seemed to match the way Lance was feeling. Although Keith was probably sucking in air from physical exertion, not for the same reasons Lance was. “What are you doing here?”   


Lance just glanced up to his board, which was still resting heavily against his shoulder. “What does it look like?” He couldn’t keep the wondering expression from his face. “Twice in one week now that we’ve met by chance.”

“Yeah,” Keith said, and they just stared into each other’s eyes for a moment, a surprising heat flashing between them. 

Lance looked away, hoping the flush on his cheeks wasn’t too visible. “Anyway, I’m gonna just...head out there, I guess. You’re being careful, right? There’s a ton of sea urchins and stonefish down here, so if you fall, you’ll get pretty cut up.” He squinted at Keith, trying to convey all his mother hen-like, life-saving tendencies in one glare. 

Keith just laughed, seeming to brush him off. “Yeah, yeah, I can take care of myself. You don’t need to worry.”

Lance opened his mouth to retort at that, ready to cite one particular incident which proved he did need to worry when Keith pinned him with another stare, this time more mischievous. 

“You surf competitively?” The question was curious, yes, but it was also a challenge. Lance could read it in Keith’s cocky head tilt, in his slightly bared teeth, in the quirk of his lips. It was a look he knew well. He just usually saw it in the mirror. 

“You bet your ass I do,” Lance found himself replying, and it didn’t matter that he hadn’t competed in a while, that he had only intended to surf for fun when he got here. Keith made him _want_ to compete. Made him want to prove himself, to wipe that smirk off his face and replace it with a look of grudging admiration. 

Keith lifted his eyebrows, and Lance was belatedly realizing that maybe, objectively, Keith was really attractive. 

Okay, so he was super hot. 

But Lance hardly had time to come to this realization before Keith was yelling, “Bet you can’t keep up!” and sprinting toward the waves, hopping nimbly across the uneven rocks, and Lance was cursing and chasing after him. 

He threw himself on his board, paddling furiously to keep up with Keith, scanning the waves, spotting - there. A slight rise, a swell that indicated a growing wave big enough to catch with his edges. Lance realized Keith was angling toward the same wave and he paddled even faster, waiting until the last possible moment before pulling himself up, up, and then he was standing and the wave was guiding him and he was dragging through the water and it  _ felt so good. _

It felt so good to be back surfing again, after so long just focusing on school and work and family. It felt so good to take time for himself, for the sport he loved. 

And there was Keith, right next to him, a fierce grin painting his face as he ripped through the water. The sheer feral quality to it sparked Lance’s blood, exhilaration and adrenaline releasing wild signals to his brain. 

And then the wave was cresting, and they were tunneling underneath the foam, channeling through a blue-green underworld tinged with the cool ancient hands of time that had inhabited these waters for millennia. 

Lance never wanted to leave this alternate reality of shifting light and colors, of timelessness and freedom and Keith. Because it was undeniable that having Keith there, having their own private competition, was heightening Lance’s experience. 

Then the wave was crashing behind them and they pulled out at the last second, just to catch another wave, and then another. When they weren’t focused on the water, they were snagging gazes on each other, meeting eyes across the sea spray in a shock of blue and violet, urging the other on, constantly pushing each other farther. It was the most fun Lance had had in weeks of being in Cuba, and this was his homeland, the hearth of his family. Maybe he had needed something new. Someone new. 

Once there was a brief lull in the waves, they pulled to the shore, both gasping a little for air as they sat on their boards, bobbing in the current. Keith took a minute to speak. “I guess you can keep up.”  
Lance cocked an eyebrow. “Told you. You don’t have to be a Triple Crown qualifier to be competent.”

He meant it to be teasing, but something darkened slightly in Keith’s eyes at the offhand comment. “Yeah,” he said quietly. 

Lance wanted to ask. Wanted to know the source of that darkness, wanted to quell it. But something just kept him from doing it. They barely knew each other. He didn’t want to push Keith too far. So instead, he settled for an alternative, something he already knew would work. “Think you still have the energy to go again?” And he poured every vestige of competitiveness, every last drop of teasing into his tone in the hope that it would wipe that darkness from Keith’s eyes.

It seemed to work because Keith lit up at the challenge. “You’re on.”

This time, it felt like the ocean could sense their instability, the undercurrent of past hurts, because the waves were rising. They seemed to hunger for more power, more height. Keith was thriving, ripping through the water with wild abandon, his look of concentration so intense Lance almost lost his footing a few times. But, and Lance was proud of this, they managed to keep pace with each other. 

It was at one such moment when, neck in neck, Lance caught Keith’s eye. And whatever was on his face, whatever was in his smile, must have knocked Keith off guard. Because it also knocked him off his board. 

It was like it happened in slow motion. 

The first time Keith had fallen off his board and into the roaring surf this week, Lance had been too far away to see it. But now, up close, he could see the brief panic in those violet eyes, could see the pale nose sinking below the waves, could see the outline of a body being tossed and turned in the punishing current below. 

Immediately, Lance leaped off his board, pushing it toward the shore in a shove that would hopefully send them up against the rocks. Then he dove down. Circumnavigating the current was difficult, but not impossible, and luckily it didn’t seem that Keith had fallen too far because before long, Lance’s fingers were grasping the edge of his wetsuit, and then he was pulling him up, up, up. 

He tried to ignore his own frantically beating heart as he snagged the edge of Keith’s eddying board and pulled it closer to them. He hoisted Keith’s limp body onto the board with some difficult maneuvering, and then was kicking toward the shore as quickly as he could. It was like he was in a haze of muscle memory and training, unable to focus on anything besides his old boss’s words cycling through his head. 

_ Get them to shore. Keep them supported above water. Lay them flat on their back. Perform CPR. Get them breathing. Keep them conscious. Call an ambulance or get to the hospital. _

The words repeated in his head over and over again, like a wailing siren warning of some calamity. And Lance wasn’t sure why this time, it felt so different. The same situation as before, the same person as before, and yet somehow so much more important. Because now that Lance knew Keith, or at least knew him better than he had, he meant something to Lance.

Everyone Lance had ever met meant something to him. He was pretty sure it stemmed from such deep familial bonds early on in his life, but it translated as he grew into an easiness around other people. Everyone he met impacted him in some way, imparted some significance on him. Some stayed, some left, and some he had yet to meet, but Lance prided himself on being able to connect with anyone. And now Keith was included in that list, and he was not going to almost die on him for the second time, damn it. Not if Lance had anything to do with it. 

Finally, finally, they reached the rocky shore, and Lance dragged the board over the rocks, not even caring that it would definitely need a re-waxing later. Keith was listless, chest not visibly rising, and Lance’s heart tightened again at the all-too-familiar sight. 

With rising panic, Lance noticed long cuts across Keith’s legs and torso where he had been tossed against the jagged reef and the sharp creatures that lived in it. A long, shallow scrape was beginning to move from a frightened white to weeping red on Keith’s right cheek, marring his jawline. 

“I told you that you would get cut, you idiot,” he hissed between his teeth before lowering his hands and mouth over Keith’s body. It seemed like it took forever, but then Keith was opening his eyes, and coughing out lungfuls of seawater, and gasping for air with a ravaged throat. 

Again.

And this time, Lance couldn't help but wonder if maybe it was his fault.

He just sat back on his heels, relieved, and couldn’t even bring himself to laugh at the repetition of situation. Couldn’t bring himself to incredulity when Keith was right there, laid out across his rented board, having just survived another near-drowning. 

Lance couldn’t even bring himself to berate the boy as he flopped his head back against the board. He didn’t look scared, or relieved, or tired. If anything, he looked disappointed. 

“I hope you know we’re going to the hospital again.” Lance’s tone brooked no argument, and this time, Keith seemed to know better than to try and debate. He just shook his head resignedly. 

“Thanks for grabbing my board,” he said with a raspy voice and a weak smile directed at Lance. Lance just nodded curtly before helping him up, biting back all the words and questions at the tip of his tongue. 

They got into the car, their boards loaded into the back, and as Lance turned to the steering wheel, he caught sight of Keith’s right cheek. His head was turned toward Lance, something like a question in his eyes, but Lance could only see the red slowly trailing down his jaw. Without thinking, he reached out a hand and swiped the trail of blood with his thumb before it could drip onto the car seat. 

Keith froze beneath his touch, and then Lance realized what he had done, that Keith’s skin had been cold and smooth, and his thumb now had Keith’s blood on it. He let his hand drop uselessly to the compartment between them. “You have a cut on your face,” Lance said, his voice a little strangled. 

Keith’s own hand rose tentatively to his cheek, barely brushing it, as if he had just noticed it. “Yeah,” he said quietly. 

And then Lance was turning his attention back to the steering wheel, if only to escape Keith’s stare, and he drove them to the hospital. For the second time in one week. His heartbeat still hammered in his chest. Lance told himself it was because of the rush of saving someone’s life, and not because of who it was that he had saved. Those thoughts were a problem for Future Lance. 

 

Keith’s hand hesitated before dialing the number. Light was streaming in through the windows of his rental, his board was propped in the corner, and he was finally dry again. 

How had it happened again? 

Twice in one week, he had fallen off his board, let the waves toss him like a ragdoll and drag him through brine and stone. Twice in one week, Lance had been there to save him, quick with his hands and steady in his voice. Twice in one week, Keith had found himself completely at the mercy of others; first the ocean, and then Lance. Out of control. He could definitively say, now, that what he hated most about drowning was the loss of control. 

But this...his hands hovered over the numbers on his phone. This, he had control over.

So he took a deep breath and dialed Lance. His fingers tapped an anxious rhythm against his leg as the tone rang, again and again, and he waited with bated breath. Finally, finally, a click sounded on the other hand. Keith realized his fists were clenched and wondered how long it had been since he called someone besides Shiro. Making phone calls had never been his strong suit, though. Which is why it was such a miracle that he had remembered Lance’s number, the tiny slip of paper now lost to the ramshackle house he called a temporary home. 

“Hello?” Came Lance’s voice from the other end of the phone. It was a little distorted, but Keith couldn’t help the smile on his face at the sound of it. 

“Hi,” Keith said. Then he realized that Lance probably didn’t have his number. “Oh, uh, it’s Keith, by the way.”   


“Oh, hi, Keith!” Lance’s tone brightened. “What’s up?” Then his tone shifted to something more insistent, and Keith could almost see the squint of his eyes. “Are you having  _ another  _ crisis?”

“No,” Keith rushed to say, feeling his breath leave in a quiet laugh. “Not right now, anyway. You got me bandaged up pretty well.”   


The hospital had once again told him he was lucky, and that the near-drowning hadn’t really affected him. None of his cuts had required stitches, mercifully, so they had just sent him on his way with some gauze and Band-Aids. Lance had chided him when they left the hospital, saying, “As much as I love this time we spend together, Keith, buddy, do not do that again.”   


Keith just smiled at the memory. “So, any particular reason?” Lance questioned from the other line, and Keith remembered why he had called in the first place. 

“Oh, yeah,” he said. “I was just thinking...I never properly thanked you.” Lance started to object, and Keith plowed on. “No, seriously. You’re right. You saved my life, especially that first time when I was being stupid. I was just...I am scared. That I’ve lost my touch. And I wanted to jump back in as soon as possible.”

Lance had fallen quiet as if he was still waiting for Keith to say more. 

“So I just thought,” Keith continued, wondering if Lance would turn him down. “If you wanted to maybe, I don’t know, go grab lunch or something sometime? You can show me a good place to eat. I would treat of course,” he rushed to say. “Since it’s a thank you, and all. Also, I think you and Hunk have met my friend Pidge Holt? She’s doing that Balmera Tech internship, and I know she wanted to hang out again, so maybe we could invite them too?”

Keith groaned internally at how awkward he surely sounded to Lance, who struck him as a social butterfly. He was so bad at making plans. That’s why it was just easier not to make them, most of the time. But he could almost hear the little Shiro sitting on his shoulder, saying,  _ Get out there, Keith. You’ll regret it if you don’t _ . Why was Shiro-on-his-shoulder always so annoyingly right? It was like having a cricket as a conscious. 

“I’d love to!” Lance said enthusiastically, his voice stirring Keith out of his anxious thoughts. “I work tomorrow at noon, but how about the day after? I can ask Hunk, and I assume you can contact Pidge? Which is  _ so _ weird, by the way, are you guys really friends? You have friends? That’s a shocker, honestly, but I can see how you fit with Pidge. When did you -”

“Woah,” Keith said, chuckling a little bit. “Slow down, or we won’t have anything to talk about at lunch.”   


Lance huffed a breath that was probably a laugh on the other end. “You’re right. Well, in that case, I’m looking forward to it.”

Keith wondered how to end the call, and then settled on something that just felt right. A familiar phrase. “Until next time,” he said tentatively. 

“Until next time,” Lance repeated, after a moment of hesitation. Maybe Keith was imagining it, but he thought Lance sounded almost fond when he said it. 

And once they hung up, and his house was suddenly much too quiet, he thought the day after tomorrow couldn’t come fast enough. 


End file.
